Investing In My Four Crippled Yandere Wives Get 1000x Returns

They gathered in the guild’s private meeting room once they’d returned to Hegeville, the document’s water-damaged pages spread carefully across the central table, and Allen watched his wives absorb its considerable, unsettling contents with the particular, individual grief that six years of shared history couldn’t fully unify into a single, simple reaction.

Myria read it first, in full, her own composed exterior holding steady right up until the final page, when something in her posture shifted, cold and controlled, into a fury Allen had witnessed only a handful of times across their entire marriage.

"Prototype fusion methodology," she said quietly, setting the document down with deliberate, careful precision. "Subject Group: Four. American registry. This isn’t speculation anymore. This is documentation."

Vivian read next, her hands steady even as her expression, beneath its careful composure, carried the particular stillness of someone processing devastation too large to properly feel all at once. "Six years," she said finally. "Six years believing we survived something natural. Something that simply happened to us, rather than something someone deliberately did."

Irene’s reaction came hottest, fastest, her own considerable fury breaking through almost immediately, flames flickering dangerously at her fingertips before she visibly, forcibly reined them back under control. "Someone did this to us," she said, voice shaking with barely restrained rage. "Trapped us with something engineered, watched us fight for our lives for eleven hours, and then just — recorded it as an accident. Filed it away like it never mattered."

Everlyn, last to finish reading, simply wept, quiet and devastated, and Allen crossed to her immediately, gathering her close as the weight of six years’ accumulated grief found fresh, considerable cause to resurface.

"I keep thinking about the individual stories," Everlyn said through her tears. "Before we ever properly unified them into one account. They never quite matched, remember? Small details, inconsistent timing. We always assumed it was just trauma, memory fragmenting under extreme stress."

"What if it wasn’t memory fragmenting," Vivian said slowly, the observation settling with fresh, cold weight. "What if it was memory being altered, imperfectly, and what we’ve been calling inconsistency was actually the alteration’s own considerable seams showing through."

The room fell into heavy, considerable silence at the possibility, and Allen felt his own protective fury rise sharp and immediate at the thought of someone reaching into his wives’ own memories, reshaping their understanding of their own trauma to serve some considerable, calculated purpose.

"We don’t know that for certain," Myria said carefully, though her own tone carried little genuine doubt. "But I think we need to proceed as though it’s likely. Farrow’s team will continue investigating the document’s full implications. In the meantime—"

"In the meantime, I want all of you protected," Allen said, firm and immediate. "Whatever this actually turns out to mean, whoever did this to you six years ago is still out there, still connected to whatever Reginald’s been hiding within this family for decades. I’m not taking chances with your safety."

He pulled up his status panel without further hesitation, scrolling through the Exchange’s considerable catalog until he found entries that felt, given everything the day had revealed, immediately, urgently necessary.

Ability Manifestation — Guardian’s Wrath (Advanced): 2,100,000 points. Effect: Bonded to designated allies. Triggers an enhanced combat state in the host when any bonded ally faces genuine, life-threatening danger, granting significant strength and speed amplification for the engagement’s duration.

Equipment — Warden’s Bulwark (Rare): 650,000 points. Wearable defensive equipment. Generates a burst-activated barrier capable of absorbing considerable, concentrated damage, triggered automatically upon detecting lethal-intent proximity.

He confirmed both purchases without hesitation, the familiar warmth of new acquisition settling into his awareness alongside grim, protective resolve, and felt something shift into place — not quite comfort, given the day’s devastating revelations, but genuine, considerable readiness.

"Bonded to all four of you," he said quietly, feeling the ability settle properly into place. "If any of you are ever in genuine danger again, I’ll know. And I’ll be considerably stronger, getting to you."

Myria’s hand found his, steady despite the day’s accumulated grief. "Thank you," she said simply.

"I won’t let what happened to you six years ago happen again," Allen said, voice carrying fierce, unwavering certainty. "Whoever did this, whatever they’re still planning — I promise you, all of you, I’ll protect this family with everything I have."

Irene crossed to him then, her earlier fury tempering into something gentler, though no less fierce beneath its surface. "We know," she said. "We’ve always known that about you."

They gathered close together as the evening settled fully into dark, five people bound by love and now, freshly, by a shared, devastating truth that would take considerable time to properly, fully process, and Allen felt the weight of the day’s revelations settle alongside quiet, unshakeable resolve — whatever answers still waited to be uncovered, whoever had orchestrated his wives’ original tragedy, they would face it together, the same way they’d faced everything else.

"Tomorrow," Myria said quietly, "we start properly investigating what this actually means. Tonight, we simply hold each other."

Nobody argued the wisdom in that, and the guild headquarters settled slowly into grieving, considerable quiet, five people gathered close against a truth still too large to fully comprehend, but no longer facing it, at least, alone.

Allen lay awake long after the others had finally, exhaustedly drifted toward sleep, Myria’s steady breathing beside him offering some small measure of comfort against the day’s considerable, unresolved weight. He found himself turning the document’s fragmented details over again and again, searching for some thread he might have missed, some answer that might settle the mounting dread now lodged permanently in his chest.

He thought of Reginald’s calm, unhurried escape, of thirty-one patient years spent embedded within a family that had never once properly questioned his presence, and felt, for the first time since this entire nightmare had begun, a cold, creeping certainty that whatever they’d uncovered tonight was merely the first thread of something considerably larger — a conspiracy that had already reached into his wives’ own memories once, and might well reach again before this was ever properly finished.

’Whatever it takes,’ he thought, echoing the same quiet vow that had carried him through every previous impossible circumstance, and finally, gradually, allowed exhaustion to carry him toward whatever rest the night still had waiting.

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